


Prismatic

by AriMarris



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon-ish, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soul twins, Soulmate - Color, Soulmate AU, Swearing, the whole 'soulmates that give you color' but with a twist ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriMarris/pseuds/AriMarris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward hates red.</p><p>He hates the way people talk about it. It is pure, they say, bright and exciting and passionate - but he can’t agree. Red is blood, and red is death. Red is muted colors he refuses to see, and red is a dried and cracked promise painted on a suit of armor.</p><p>---</p><p>In which with each soulmate comes a color and Edward wishes he never found his red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prismatic

“Red suits you. It makes you look all grown up.”

“I am all grown up,” Edward huffs in a halfhearted response, but he now reappraises the dark fabric he previously complained about. Her words are more than enough to put his complaints to rest, and after only a few moments of thought, he smooths out the shirt and puffs out his chest.

He was no older than four years old, and yet Edward could not remember a world without color. The blues are dull but they are there, the grass he rips from the earth to shower on his screaming brother is green, and the yellows are as vibrant as the sun, as his hair, as his golden eyes. Trisha is glad for this, for a colorless world never would have suited her eldest son.

“Look at you,” Trisha hummed with pride in her voice. She kneels down in front of Edward and tucks his pockets in, smiling all the while. Edward cannot see color in her face or her hair. She is gray, but where her hand presses against his cheek is warm, and it feels like sunshine. Her eyes are dark, but they are deeper than the pond near their house. It doesn’t matter though, because she is still gray, and Edward believes the universe couldn’t decide on a color for someone as incredible as his mother. He isn’t exactly wrong. “My handsome little man.”

* * *

Edward hates red.

He hates the way people talk about it. It is pure, they say, bright and exciting and passionate - but he can’t agree. Red is blood, and red is death. Red is muted colors he refuses to see, and red is a dried and cracked promise painted on a suit of armor.

His mother had loved the color, but he thinks it’s because she is reminded of his father when she sees it. She’s not the only one, he knows. Many people grow attached to colors, after they associate with their loved one, it becomes part of their world in an irreplaceable way.

“You don’t understand,” Rose claims, with the same kicked-puppy tone she had used to express her genuine pity at their lack of faith only moments before. Although her voice is as soft as her demeanor, her eyes are alight with a passionate fire. Her hands are clasped together, clutching a glass rose - colorless to her, though it hadn’t always been that way - so tightly to her chest one might think it were a lifeline. “If you have faith, anything can be achieved!”

She claims he doesn’t understand, and in many ways he doesn’t. Rose has lost more than her first and only love. With him came color, a brightened world, but when he left he took it with him. Edward, isn’t so lucky. His mother was softened grays and dark shadows, and that is all he has to remember her by.

He understands, more than she would care to know.

He wants to tell her this but the words are strangled in his throat and twisted on his tongue, and he decides he has never been particularly empathetic anyways. There’s no point in starting now, so he casts her one final glance and spits one last piece of advice.

“You have two good legs… get up and use them.” 

* * *

The first time Trisha Elric sees red, she jolts away from the man as if burned. His face, previously so dark and enthralling, suddenly seems ages younger, flickering with a gentle glow that had previously been a white light. His eyes are still a silver to her, an unimaginable color that she has not yet found, but the fire behind her reflects within them, dancing.

He is frozen, and his mouth falls open as he gazes at her. It is as though he sees her for the first time, despite the fact they had met numerous times before. He recovers just as quickly, however. He clamps his mouth shut and allows his features to fall into one of indifference.

Before she is able to recover, Hohenheim rises to his feet. He carefully places his unfinished glass beside Pinako, before bidding them a goodnight and leaving the doctor and the child behind.

Trisha is almost unfazed by this, though, and far too intrigued by the addition of color to be care. Instead, she fastens her gaze on the half empty cup placed next to Pinako.

“What color is that?”

Pinako is startled by the question, and quickly looks the direction in which Hohenheim had disappeared. She turns her gaze back to the girl, whose wide eyes are now fixed on her and filled with a burning curiosity. “It’s red.”

“Red,” Trisha tested the word on her lips, which quickly turned up in a smile. “It’s beautiful.”

* * *

 

Edward doesn’t understand how he could do that to his wife, how he could do that to Nina, to himself. A life of black and white is not one that many people return to, and Edward wonders if Tucker could see the vibrant blood on his hands up until the moment the chimera of his wife’s life flickered out.

_“You and I, we’re not so different.”_

Tucker’s words haunt him, though he tries not to let it show. He must have failed miserably. Mustang appears some time later, and it takes him only a few moments to piece everything together. His eyes soften, only briefly, and he reaches out to brace Edward’s shoulder. Edward flinches away, out of his reach, and Mustang opens his mouth to speak. Edward is out of the room before he can say a word, Alphonse clunking along behind him. They find themselves on the steps of the mansion in the pouring rain.

Sometimes, it seems, color is more of a curse than a world of black and white. A life of black and white is just that. There is no interpretation to be had, no in betweens or maybes. Color is a spectrum, and color can bring as much sadness as it does joy.

Blue is an endless sky and deep water and delicate flowers on the side of the road, but blue is also crisp military uniforms on their way to war, and pouring rain in a dimly lit city.

Nina’s eyes were blue.

* * *

 

In deep contrast to his older brother, Alphonse takes an immediate liking to Winry.

“Your eyes are pretty!” he tells her, gazing at the blonde girl with a sudden fascination, clasping her hand tightly within his. They are nothing like his older brother’s, whose eyes are like molten gold or drops of sunshine. He can’t tell what color his own eyes are, but he doesn’t mind much. His brother constantly tells him that they are like their mother’s, and sometimes Alphonse is satisfied with that.

Edward doesn’t think the doctor’s daughter’s eyes are that special.

Winry herself looks shocked for a moment, and then sad the next. “You can see it?” She asks, a bit of longing in her tone. Her world is still gray, and she doesn’t usually mind too much. Automail is grey and silver, and it is cool and comfortable beneath her fingers, even at a such a young age. Even still, she longs to see the colors that others claim they couldn’t live without.

Edward had known color since Alphonse was born. From the moment he leant over the edge of the crib that held his brother, wondering what on earth the creature was, then proceeding to reach in and poke it’s dark, chubby cheek. The baby, swaddled in a cloth that was no longer gray, but a gentle baby blue, had let out a cry that sent his older brother tumbling backwards.

“We can see a bunch of colors, can’t we Al?” Edward said, puffing out his chest proudly. Winry eyed him enviously as he began to list off the colors his world was filled with. Edward’s grin grew as he boasted, but was sent reeling back when the girl suddenly dissolved into tears. He quickly recovered, stepping forward with a scowl. “You’re such a baby!”

The slap was very much deserved, though the girl didn’t seem to know her own strength as she sent the younger boy tumbling backwards. He let out an indignant squawk as he landed on his butt, his hand flying up to nurse his sore cheek. He cracked his eyes open, glaring at her as she hovered over him. “What was that for you-!”

Edward found himself gazing into the most amazing, crystal clear blue eyes he had ever seen.

“You’re a jerk, Edward Elric!” Winry screeched, and then froze, her eyes paused just above Edward head. He broke his stare long enough to follow her stare, and found her staring deeply into a mirror. He scrambled out of the way as she stepped forward, closer to the mirror. After a few moments, she turned to Edward with a blank look on her face. “You… And me?”

Alphonse quietly chirped, “and me!”

* * *

 

Edward doesn’t think about it until after, not really. Not until after Scar has disappeared, when he’s crouched before a broken suit of armor with a gaping hole in it’s side, and it’s no longer raining. Instead the sun has broken through the clouds and found it’s way into the streets. It glimmers on the wet pavement, and he can see it because Alphonse is alive, because _he_ is alive.

He remembers his promise, to return Alphonse’s body, to return color to his world. If he had died… He needed to live to save Alphonse, he needed to continue to fight. He laughs, brokenly, because Alphonse is right.

Alphonse is right, and he’s an idiot.

* * *

 

Trisha falls sick in the winter. Her skin never held color that Edward could see, but now she seemed to sink into the white sheets that surrounded her, and inside seems just as cold and dreary and colorless as outside.

Edward is first to see the blue creep upon her lips as she asks him, in a broken whisper, if he would make his dear mother a wreath of flowers. He shakes uncontrollably as her hand goes limp in his. He wants to scream, he wants to cry. Instead, he turns and storms out of the room. Winry bolts after him, followed just as quickly by Alphonse. She holds her boys as they cry, and then helps them gather blue flowers.

The headstone is carved using alchemy, and Edward wondered why despite the brightness of the world, the vivid colors of spring that surrounded him, everything was suddenly dull and empty.

After the funeral, there is very little they think off besides getting her back. They surround themselves with books, and allow their world to become ink on paper, black and white.

* * *

 

Edward has an awful habit of not thinking things through, and he makes no exception when he asks Winry to make a trip out to Central. Her face when she enters his hotel room says it all, and he feels guilt tie his stomach in knots.

Winry’s family is that of doctors, but the last time she saw someone surrounded by white hospital sheets, she watched Trisha Elric die. Now Edward is in her place, nursing wounds that should never have been inflicted upon him, and looking at her blankly.

Edward is quick to stutter an apology, but it’s not long after that that he shuts himself down and turns away. She barely looks at him as she leaves with Hughes, but the next day she can’t keep her eyes off of him. Instead, after Edward and Alphonse work everything else out, the three sit together and Winry absentmindedly marvels over Edward’s hair, twirling it between her fingers as she tells them about her Twin Flame, a lovable three year old with green eyes like Winry could never have imagined.

* * *

 

Risembool is a small town, and few tend to wander away from it’s quiet charm once they have made their home there. It’s a shame, really, because soul bonds are not fate, and with it’s small population, it is actually quite rare that someone should meet their bonded within the town’s limits.

Folks around here tend to be perfectly content living bland, colorless lives. They fall in love of their own accord, marry the person of their choosing, and continue on with their lives as if there isn’t more out there, more to see.

Trisha isn’t much of an exception at first. She excepts a date when a boy she went to school with asks her, but she breaks it off less than three months later when he shows up with red roses and she finds herself filled with the oddest sense of uncomfortable guilt.

Within a week, the same boy pricks his finger throwing out dying roses, and when the blood beads above his skin, the color is vibrant and he smiles. At the same time, soon to be the next Mrs. Rockbell lies next to Trisha in the grass, playing with a red ribbon and musing about what awaits them in life.

Perhaps Fate does have some say, Trisha decides as she finds herself braiding the ribbon into Sara’s hair. It glimmers in the sunlight and reminds her of a night dancing by the fire, and she realizes she won’t be satisfied until she is with the one who gave her red, and she is wiling to wait for him.

* * *

 

Edward had seen Winry at her best, and he had seen her at her worst. He had seen her as a child, remembered her crying because she believed she would never see color the way he and Al did, and he was there when she saw blue for the first time, brilliant blue staring back at her from her own reflection. She still played with his hair, in utter awe of the golden strands twisted around her fingers. Winry’s face had been so awestruck, amazed… But absolutely nothing compared to the look on her face as she wrapped her fingers around the thief’s wrists, as her world burst into full on color in ways she could have never imagined existed.

Edward would have his watch stolen a hundred times over to see that look on Winry’s face again.

It doesn’t take long for Winry to get over the shock, either, and she’s twittering, stumbling excitedly between automail and colors and automail and Paninya and on and on. At some point, introductions fly by and Paninya leads them into the house, and Winry is still marveling at Paninya’s automail, or maybe it’s moved on to Paninya’s rich colored skin. At this point, the engineer is equally entranced by both of them.

Edward’s suddenly glad he brought her along, that she got to meet her soulmate in such a place. Winry deserved it, deserved to see the world in full on, effervescent color. While he still had his opinions about the pick pocket, he doesn’t have to fake his enthusiasm for this new development.

He swears Alphonse will be next, because his baby brother deserved more that being trapped in a world of cold, colorless steel.

* * *

 

She confronts him the next time he passes through, for it has been too long, and she is no longer a child. Red is still the only color Trisha knows, and this time, she knows what it means. She has spent enough time falling asleep and seeing red behind her eyelids, enough time staring into the fire and remembering the first time flames lit up his face. She knows what red means for her, for him, for them.

But she is still young, too young for him to feel right being with her, and he knows he doesn’t deserve her. One day, he promises himself - and her, if only to sate her - that he will tell her everything and allow her to make her own decision.

She agrees, holding his hand between her two smaller ones. “I will wait,” she swears to him, and when she drops her hands, he finds a pink apple blossom sitting delicately within his palm. “I promise.”

* * *

 

“A soul ties itself to a physical form. It is attached until the moment that body dies,” Izumi explains, and Edward’s already had his ass kicked enough today, so he keeps his mouth shut and listens patiently. It doesn’t stop him from glancing sideways at Alphonse tho, because Alphonse is very much not attached to his body. Izumi notices, but she pretends to ignore her former pupils ignorance. “Alphonse’s body is still linked with his soul, despite his soul being tied to a new form. As you both know, soulmate links are reveals once there has been some form of physical contact.”

“That doesn’t explain why Brother can see color and I can’t,” Alphonse protested quietly. His hands flew up in a sign of surrender as Izumi turned her glare on him. Edward, who had remained silent through Izumi’s explanation, leaned forward, deep in thought.

“No, no,” he murmured. “It… makes sense. If you think about it in the physical aspect. The connection is always there, whether the partner be alive or dead. But we can only see the colors once we come in direct contact with that person. It’s not our souls that see the color, but our bodies. Since Alphonse doesn’t have his body, he can’t see the colors.”

“But, Brother,” Alphonse interjected patiently, “That doesn’t explain why you can see colors.”

Edward opens his mouth to speak, but Izumi beats him to it.

“You should be happy,” she tells him, with a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “The fact that Edward can see color indicates that your body is very much alive, no matter where it is.”

Edward clenches his fist tightly, while Alphonse has gone completely still beside him. It’s their first true lead, and Edward feels hope swell in his chest - real hope. “Now I guess all that’s left is finding it and getting it back!”

Alphonse agrees, and his voice is full of burning determination. “Do you think Edward’s arm and leg are there?”

Edward ignores the conversation from that point on. He doesn’t care about his leg or his arm. All that has mattered since that day was getting his brother’s body back. It was a promise he wouldn’t, couldn’t, break. He had done enough, broken enough promises, caused enough pain…

Edward had barely noticed that Alphonse had disappeared from the table. Instead, Izumi stared at him sternly, her hands folded beneath her chin as she leant on the table.

“You’ve been quiet. Do you have anymore questions?” He’s quick to his feet, looking for a sign of where Alphonse went, hoping to make his get away. She scoffs. “Sit down. Alphonse just went to do some chores. Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”

Edward wonders where she got the ability to read his mind. It reminded him strangely of his mother. Perhaps it was a maternal instinct? Either way, it was no longer a question, so he steeled himself and asked, “Have you ever heard of a case where one person can see the color and the other can’t?” He thinks of his mother and Hohenheim. How could his father leave her like that, leave the only color in his world? He thinks of Tucker, and how easily the man destroyed the woman he claimed was his soulmate. “Maybe a one sided bond, perhaps?”

Izumi appraises him for a moment, before sighing and shaking her head. “Soul bonds don’t work like that Edward. Every soul has a match, there is nothing one sided about it. Multiples, yes. You learnt that with miss Winry. But one sided? It’s unheard of.”

* * *

Dublith is nothing like home. The buildings are pressed together with narrow streets that twist and turn, in a complicated manner. There are no fields of rolling grass, or towering canopies of trees, or glittering ponds. It is gray and dark, and it is not home. Even the sky, with it’s endless blues, is different, but not different enough that Edward isn’t reminded of Winry.

Alphonse insists they write her regularly, and she sometimes returns their letters with pictures. Edward never sends pictures back. He doesn’t have time, or a camera, and even though it would be easy enough to acquire said things, he doesn’t really think anything in Dublith is worth Winry seeing.

Their teacher herself does nothing to ease them into their new surroundings, and she is not gentle in her lessons. She is violent and crude, and she spits fire as often as she spits blood. Edward soon decides he wouldn’t have it any other way, for he finds himself picking up alchemy and learning new tricks faster than he could ever have imagined, and before long he is back on a train for home, a renewed flame of determination burning within his eyes.

* * *

 

Roy Mustang lied to him.

Maes Hughes was dead.

Roy Mustang had looked him in the eye and _lied_ to him, as if this wasn’t his problem, as if Edward had no business knowing that yet another person’s blood was on his hands, as if Edward was nothing but a child, as if Edward wasn’t-

Maes Hughes was _dead_ it was all Edward’s fault. It was Edward’s fault for dragging him into this mess, for getting him involved when it was never his problem. He should never have involved anyone else.

He later sits before Gracia Hughes and confesses. He wishes he could giver her back what he took, turn back time and just leaves Hughes out of this, somehow bring Hughes back to his loving wife and precious daughter, but he couldn’t. The dead stay dead, and he had learnt that the hard way.

Gracia allows him to finish speaking before she intercepts, and her voice is soft and forgiving. “I met the man who gave me red in my childhood,” she starts, and Ed is confused but for once, he keeps his mouth shut and listened. “He died less than a week after we met. It was years later that I met Maes. Maes was never the one I was destined to be with, and even though he didn’t return color to my life, he gave me something better.”

Her voice shook as she continued, “Maes and I didn’t need color to tell us we could love each other, we didn’t…” She paused for a moment before recollecting herself. “When Maes and I met, I had given up on love. I barely knew my soulmate before he was taken from me, and I couldn’t stand it. But he changed me for the better. He never gave up on me, and he didn’t give up on you.”

Edward was holding his breath, not sure what to make of this. When Gracia locked eyes with him, her eyes were wet but her voice was strong.

“You can’t give up. Don’t let my husband’s death be in vain.”

* * *

 

It is years before he begins his trek back to Risembool, and she has developed into a beautiful young woman in his absence. There are moments, usually as her friends get married and move on (the Rockbell’s are expecting), that she wished she never let him go. But she is true to her promise, and when he returns she makes sure to wear red to greet him.

He hasn’t a moment to say anything, and she has pressed a kiss against his cheek. She watches with amusement as his cheeks flood with the color that has become so familiar to her, so dear to her. She links her arm with his and places her head on his shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Hohenheim keeps true to his promise, and he begins to tell his tale as they weave through the streets of Risembool and head for home. She is silent for most of it, listening with the patience she had mastered over the last fifteen years.

“I can leave now,” Hohenheim offers, though the thought seems to scare to him, “I’ll leave you with red, but you can find someone better. Someone who can give you their life in it’s entirety.” Trisha doesn’t answer, but she lifts her hand to his face and cradles it gently. Her face is so close he can feel her breath on his lips. “I’m a monster, Trisha.”

Trisha only smiles, and seals the distance between them.

Man or Monster - the title was his to decide. But right now, all she cared about was that he was hers.

* * *

 

He was a monster.

The smell of fire and death and smoke has filled the alley by the time Edward arrives, and the mangled corpse before his eyes has been reduced to an unidentifiable pile of charcoal. Mustang stands facing him, but Edward cannot read him, cannot tell what’s going on in his superior’s mind.

Edward’s first feeling is an overwhelming sense of betrayal. He doesn’t understand. It’s not him who is reduced to a pile of ash at Mustang’s hands. It’s not him who was pointlessly killed because of a unfounded grudge for a murder he didn’t commit. But for what it was worth, it might of well have been.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang addresses him, and his tone is as cold as the artificial limbs that gave Edward that name.

The betrayal turns to fire rushing through his veins, and fury fuels the flames. Next thing he knows, his hands are clenched around Mustang’s collar and he’s screaming at him. Mustang’s face is still cold, and Edward wonders if he feels _anything_.

The answer comes not even a moment later when he’s sent reeling back, crashing to the ground. It was dizzying, but he’s on his feet without hesitation. Mustang is speaking but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who Mustang is, only what he did, and Edward doesn’t care anymore, so he throws himself forward.

He’s stopped by Alphonse, but he doesn’t stop screaming until after soldiers begin to fill the area. He’s forced into a corner, silently seething as Mustang casually, coldly, explains what events took place. Edward gritted his teeth and refused to look at anyone, even when the military began to question them.

He was a fool for ever trusting Mustang.

* * *

 

Hohenheim had never seen color before he met Trisha. Years he had walked, meeting new people, and seeing new things, but none of it had color. Now, when he was away from her, he is reminded of a girl, no older than five, and the flames that dance across her youthful features.

Now he sees her in the rich crimson silk that is ever so popular in Xing, in the shining apples that are sold along the streets no matter where he visits, in the eyes of a curious Ishvalan boy who clings to his brother’s hand and stares at him with eyes that can see more color than Hohenheim could fathom. He sees her in the flames that illuminate empty nights, and it eases his loneliness in a way he never imagined he would know.

Red is not much, but it is something, and it is incredible.

* * *

 

As a general rule, Edward does not make a habit of admitting he was wrong. He wants to be pissed, that Roy lied to him, deceived him, didn’t include him… but he’s not. Irritated, yes, but it was as though all of his anger and frustration and confusion towards the man that had been building up since he lied about Hughes’ death… had suddenly deflated. It was pointless, with Maria Ross standing before him in the dry heat of the desert, smiling brightly.

The man had his reasons, Edward knows, but it doesn’t stop the annoyance at not being let into the plan. Surely he could have helped, could have assisted Roy in someway.

Deep inside he knows Roy was right not to include him, but it doesn’t make it much easier. At least the trip wasn’t a complete waste, though. Because of their detour through Xerxes, Edward has now learnt who exactly killed Winry’s parents.

Winry can’t know. It’s okay though, he tells himself. After all - it’s just another thing to add on his ever growing list of secrets.

* * *

 

Alphonse and Edward had been entranced by alchemy for as long as they could remember. There was something comfortable about the science and it came to them with ease. The gentle blue glow that came with each transmutation was something their mother could never understand, but it was something of a comfort to them. It almost… connected them.

Blue was their color. It was in their alchemy. It tied them together and reminded them they were connected. Winry was part of their blue too, and although she couldn’t do alchemy, the boys quickly decided they wanted to share it with her.

As many things do, the attempt went horribly wrong. Instead of amazed, Winry was sent reeling back in terror as the doll took form, a dark shape gleaming in the eerie blue light. She took off down the stairs, and not long after, Edward and Alphonse found themselves in the midst of a lecture. It was hardly fair. They didn’t mean to scare Winry… it had just happened.

Trisha is oddly quiet and they wonder how much trouble they’re in. But once they are a safe distance from the Rockbell’s house, she turns to her boys and tells them just how proud she is.

Edward doesn’t think it’s just because of the gift.

* * *

 

Edward is past listening, so he doesn’t heed his brother’s warning when Winry approaches them from behind. Instead he finds himself breaking yet another promise to himself, and spilling answers to questions Winry should have never been haunted by.

Now he finds himself crouched before her, cursing himself because this was all his fault.

“Look at me, Winry,” he says, calmly. Well, more calmly than he felt. He takes her hand in his, though her fingers are still wrapped tightly around the gun. She turns her eyes to him, and he feels the air leave his chest because she looks so utterly defeated, with tears welling in her eyes.

“I couldn’t do it.” It’s a broken whisper that makes his heart ache, but it also makes him proud. “He killed my parents. He tried to kill you an Al too, but I…”

“Of course you couldn’t.” Edward’s voice is soft. “You gave me an arm and a leg,” he started, pulling down a finger with each example, “you saved Satella and her son,” two more fingers, and he hesitates, “you gave Paninya red.”

The gun falls from her fingers, clattering to the ground. He replaces it with his own flesh fingers, intertwining them between hers. She’s stopped sobbing, and he leans over to press a kiss against her forehead. “You gave Al and I blue, too. Your hands weren’t meant to kill, Winry. They create, they save lives.”

He didn’t want blood on her hands. He had enough of it on his own for the three of them.

* * *

 

Red has not shown itself to him yet, but he has become far too familiar with crimson. It is crimson that fills the room, floods his senses, pervades his nose, soaks his sight, steals his brother.

It is only fitting that he uses crimson to steal him back.

Alphonse was never meant to be trapped in dull steel. He should be shining like the sun, radiating with warmth and he should be whole, unbroken. But Edward was young and foolish and hopeful, and his mistakes cost Alphonse more than Edward could ever repay. For him, for them both, the world is still bright and beautiful, with blues and greens and yellows, and it is this that sparks a new determination, a new goal, within Edward.

Edward swears he will see Alphonse’s smile again before he allows himself to see the color his mother held so dear. His blood, in stark contrast against cool armor, stands as a reminder of his promise.

* * *

 

The brothers don’t allow color into their lives again until they find themselves alone on an island, banned from the use of alchemy. Suddenly the black and white of ink on paper is unimportant, and they are surrounded by deep water, an endless sky, golden beaches and towering plants.

All is one, one is all.

It takes Edward nearly starving to discover what their teacher’s words meant. From then on he does everything necessary to get both of them to survive the remainder of their time on the island.

The first time Edward kills, it is for food but he still doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the blood he sees on his hands. He knows its red, because blood is red, like roses and strawberries and fire. Edward doesn’t like the color, and when he sees it on his hands he is reminded of his mother’s words.

“Red suits you. It makes you look all grown up.”

* * *

 

Ling seemed to piss Edward off even more with every word he said, and his shit attitude certainly was’t helping Edward’s opinion of him. The longer they stayed in this, literally, bloody cave, the more Edward wanted to strangle the foreign prince.

At some point, they managed to fall into a comfortable silence and Edward’s desire to quiet Ling once and for all faded. Until he had to go and break the silence with one of the stupidest questions Edward had ever heard.

“Can you see it?” Ling asked, and Edward spun on his heel to see Ling gazing at his blood clothing.

“Of course I can fucking see it,” Edward huffed angrily, “I’m not blind.”

“I meant the color,” Ling said shortly, before giving a huff of annoyance, as if he could be the judge of Edward. Fucking snotty prince. His eyes are narrowed on Edward, and Edward glares right back. “Red, they call it. Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet. It is the color of blood, of the philosopher’s stone, of life, some say. Can you see it?”

“No,” Edward says, too quickly, and Ling’s eyebrows raise in curiosity. “I can’t see it. But it’s none of your damn business anyways.”

Ling doesn’t question him, turning away as they continue to walk, and instead decides to speak as though Edward hadn’t said a word.

“It truly is a magnificent color. I am very lucky to be able to see it.” His eyes are narrowed at the darkness that lies before him. His fist clenches at his side. “Though, I’m afraid Lan Fan has never been able to see it. She gave it to me, and she can’t even see it herself. It’s a pity, really.”

Edward looks up, startled. “Is it not requited?” He asks, and Ling sends him a curious look.

“No, no. We are very much soul mates. In Xing we call it _mángmù dì zǔzhòu_ , or ‘ _blind curse_ ’. Many of our people are born with an unexplained inability to see certain colors, whether they have met their soul mates or not… They also say it can be healed, with the same power that makes one immortal.” So the prince had more than one reason to seek after the stone. It’s no wonder he’s so set in his goals, but it doesn’t make him any less annoying. “I want her to be able to see it with me.”

* * *

 

It’s too late by the time he realizes, and he can do nothing to fix his mistakes.

He returned to Resembool at the end of spring, the fastest he could make it after realizing what could happen. The ground was still wet from the last storm, colorless grass squeaking beneath his shoes as he moved stiffly towards the house, scared of what he would find.

The town itself greeted him with whispers and shifting eyes. He had lived through enough of those to be able to ignore it, but nothing prepared him for the dark, empty house. He walked through the unlit halls, if only out of pure shock. Part of him expected her to suddenly appear, with the blinding smile, and ask where he had been all this time.

She didn’t.

The boys weren’t here either, and he knew he should go look for them. They needed to be together in this time of mourning. They needed him to be the father he had always failed to be. But he didn’t run to find them. Instead, his legs brought him to Trisha’s bedroom, where the bed was made, white sheets pulled taunt and crisp and unused.

The nightside table beside him had been cleared except for a picture of two smiling couples surrounded by a bright red frame. But it was dull, and gray, and no matter how much he wished it, he couldn’t see red.

He couldn’t bring her back.

* * *

 

When Edward wakes up the day after the failed transmutation, pain rips through him and it is like nothing he has ever felt before in his life. He mind immediately jumps to Alphonse, and he hopes that wherever he is, he doesn’t have to feel this, that he’d okay.

“Alphonse,” he coughs, and he’s trying to sit up but gentle hands guide him back down. He resists, thrashes despite the pain and then shouts, “Alphonse!”

“I’m here, Brother.” The words immediately put him to rest but his eyes snap open, scanning the room for the one who said them. His eyes land on a suit or armor, a gray figure that seems to fade into it’s surroundings, but stand out all the same. In a sudden rush, Edward remembers the events of the previous evening, the blood -

_So much blood, spattered around the room, pooling around him._

\- and the burning failure -

_“Mom? Mom?” A figure, not at all human, breathing its first and last breath in a single choked movement._

\- losing Alphonse -

_“Al? Give me back my brother! He’s… He’s all I have left!”_

\- dragging him back -

_“Al, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”_

\- leaving that cursed house and their failure behind -

_“Brother… I can’t….”_

\- arriving at the Rockbell’s house in the dead of night -

_“Brother… I can’t see yellow. I can’t see blue. Everything is dark.”_

\- and Edward is brought back to the present in a rush of color, color Alphonse can’t see, because he’s trapped and it’s all his fault. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Edward repeats, and the words fall from his lips like a mantra.

The pain is nothing, nothing in compare to what Alphonse must be going through. Alphonse should never have to suffer a colorless life and it’s unfair, it’s wrong, that he could see while his brother suffers in darkness.

Blood, colorless blood, stains his vision, and he swears he won’t see the color until Alphonse can see them all.

* * *

 

Roy seems to fall out of ceiling, though Edward has seen enough to know this isn’t the case. He’s the first one to Roy’s side nonetheless, and he helps the man prop himself up. Roy seems dazed, confused, and Edward’s stomach drops with the realization.

“Get yourself together, Colonel,” he shouts, because he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s never had to deal with Roy like this. Roy, who always seems to have been a pillar of strength and cold indifference. But the cocky bastard has disappeared and is replaced with a confused man, grasping at reality after the horror he has just lived.

“Fullmetal?” Roy suddenly manages, and he pushes himself up to take a look at their surroundings. Edward doesn’t release his grip on Roy’s shoulder, and he asks what happened, just because he needs to be sure, he needs to know. Roy’s story only confirms what he already knew, but now panic rushes through him more so than before.

“What did they take, Colonel?” He asked, rushed and worried, because he can’t see any external injuries, and if the Truth took anything from inside, it could be only a matter of time before Roy was - he didn’t want to think about that.

“You probably can’t see my condition in this darkness,” Roy says, and Edward feels his heart stop. He’s frozen, unable to move in shock and horror, even as Roy struggles to his feet. “It’s pitch black in here.”

Roy stumbles, and he falls, and Edward can’t help but wonder if Roy committed the taboo. Apparently, he voiced his thoughts for Roy scoffs at him a moment later.

All emotions are replaced with overwhelming anger when Pride confirms what Edward has already realized. Father mocks them, and Edward is shaking because Roy never deserved this. Him and teacher? Hell, even Alphonse, deserved what they got. They ran into a territory which was never their’s to claim, that pretended and played god and got what they deserved, but Roy?

“You- You robbed an innocent man of his vision,” Edward hisses, and the words are downright lethal. “He never wanted to commit the transmutation, he was never stupid enough to play god, and you dragged him into this hell. You took his sight and now…” Edward is shaking, both fists clenched at his side. “It’s bad enough the world never let him see red, I refuse to let him be robbed of his sight altogether! If this is the truth, than I reject it!”

* * *

 

The door rattles on its hinges when it’s thrown open, and Edward knows immediately its no one from around Risembool. No one in the area would even test Pinako’s patience like that. He doesn’t have time to ponder it, however, because the next moment he finds himself face to face with a military officer. The man is livid, but Edward thinks he sees fear in his eyes too, behind the anger.

The man doesn’t seem to care about his situation, grasping a fistful of his shirt and heaving him forward. He’s shouting at him, and it’s only when Edward lets out the quietest whimper, turning his eyes away from the soldier, that Alphonse intercepts.

He apologizes, again and again and Edward shakes because it should be him who is apologizing, it should be him who takes responsibility for what they did. But he isn’t strong. Not strong enough. The man lowers his arm, dropping Edward back into his wheelchair, and for the briefest moment, the back of his bare hand brushes Edward’s chest, and Edward’s world explodes into color.

Edward wishes he could laugh, or even cry, because he’s broken so many promises and failed so many times, whats one more? He can’t cry, though, and the soldier steps away and continues as if nothing had happened.

Maybe it didn’t. Edward had never heard of unrequited soulmates, but he’s probably just broken anyways. It doesn’t matter though, and it’s probably better this way.

This way, he could pretend it never happened. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the bright red hues, or the browns and purples and oranges that came with it, but so long as it was unrequited, he could focus on his goal.

By the time Mustang leaves, fire has returned to Edward’s eyes.

* * *

 

It’s weeks before Alphonse is discharged from the hospital, and even though Edward was able to leave after a few days, he stays by Alphonse’s side the entire time. It was rare to see Edward outside of the hospital room, in all honesty, and when you did catch him, it was difficult to lure him into a conversation that lasted over twenty seconds.

Occasionally, he was forced out of the room, and he usually went without complaint. After all, he certainly didn’t want to sit between Alphonse and Mei as they flirted endlessly with each other.

Not that he wasn’t happy for his brother, of course. He was glad that one of Alphonse’s first memories back in his human body was the world exploding into color as the Xingese princess latched herself onto him. He just wished his brother wasn’t such a fucking sap when it came to said princess.

He also wished her visits weren’t as sporadic. It couldn’t be helped, really, since the hospital had strict visiting hours that caused her to insist upon sneaking into the room at night. It was because of one her late night visits (quite poorly timed, if you ask Edward) that he was forced out of the room, and found himself wandering the hospital aimlessly.

Edward wasn’t the only one.

He stumbled backwards, but quickly caught himself as he looked up quickly to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Fullmetal,” the man greeted, with the smallest nod in his direction. His eyes appraised the teen, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Can’t sleep?”

Edward had heard that Roy had gotten his sight back - he just wasn’t sure how much of the rumors were true. Apparently, majority of them had been correct, and at this point, Edward didn’t even care what the price had been. He was just glad Roy could see again.    
“More like sick of the Xingese romantic poetry being spouted at all hours of the night,” Edward explained, but his eyes were bright and deceived the happiness he had for his brother and Mei. “And you can’t call me that anymore. I’m not exactly a state alchemist anymore. I handed in my resignation a few weeks ago.”

Roy’s smile disappeared as quickly as it came. He looked as though he wanted to ask about it, but changed his mind. “Very well, Edward,” he said, and Edward hated how the shivers ran through him at the use of his name. “Walk with me?”

“Colonel bastard, what makes you think I want to?” Edward muttered, but his footsteps fell in time with Roy’s almost instantly, with a comfortable ease.

“Roy,” the soldier corrected, without so much as a moment of hesitation. Edward looked startled, and Roy’s expression mirrored his. He coughed before continuing, “you said it yourself. You’re not really part of the military anymore. So, just Roy is fine.”

“Sure, whatever,” Edward replied with an air of nonchalance, as if his heart hadn’t jumped to his throat. After that, the two fall into a silence as they walk through the hospital halls, their footsteps clicking in the silence. They eventually find themselves outside of Alphonse’s hospital room, and Edward can hear gentle snores, which means Mei either left, or she had fallen asleep curled up against him again. Before Edward can help himself, the words tumble out of his mouth. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Alphonse is getting discharged, and we’re heading home to Risembool.”

“I know,” Roy says, and his eyes are unreadable. For a brief moment, Edward wants Roy to ask him to stay, to confess he’s seen it all along, to reassure Edward he’s not broken, that he never was, but he’s was too much of a coward to say anything back then. Instead, “may I ask you something, before you go?”

Edward’s brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks at Roy for only a moment before nodding.

“You said something, back during the fight, after I lost my sight,” Roy says, and Edward tenses. He considers fleeing because anything would be better than facing this, having to explain that he could see the color when Roy couldn’t. “Something about my inability to see red?”

The noise Edward makes isn’t exactly dignified, and he’s never been one to run away from a fight, but this isn’t a situation he ever wanted to face. He reaches behind him, and his hand searches frantically for the door knob as if locking himself in his brother’s hospital room would solve all his problem.

“It’s you, right?” Roy asks, suddenly, and the question takes Edward off guard and he stumbles backwards but Roy catches him. He wants to shout some witty retort, but his tongue is tied and Roy is gripping him firmly and he’s not entirely sure he wants him to let go. “When I got my sight back, nothing seemed different at first. I haven’t been able to,” another cough, “I haven’t been able to see blue since Maes. But my yellows were as vibrant as always. There was something else though. Red. It’s you, right? That’s how you know I would be able to see it, because you, because we’re…”

_“In Xing we call it mángmù dì zǔzhòu, or ‘blind curse’. Many of our people are born with an unexplained inability to see certain colors, whether they have met their soul mates or not… They also say it can be healed, with the same power that makes one immortal.”_

Edward starts laughing, and it’s loud enough to wake patients up, but he doesn’t care. He laughs because he’s such an idiot for never realizing. He wasn’t broken at all, nor was he unwanted. It’s as though a weight was lifted off his chest. Roy releases him, looking both confused and hurt, but Edward pulls him back and kisses him before the man can get another word in edgewise. Roy freezes at first, before leaning over, practically melting into the kiss.

They break away, eventually, but they don’t let go of each other and Roy plays with Edward’s red jacket absentmindedly as Edward catches his breath.

“I still have to go back to Risembool,” Edward says, meeting Roy’s gaze. Roy just smiles in response. “Alphonse is still my priority, and I need to be there for him and help him recover. But I’ll come visit Central, I guess. And you can always come to Risembool - ah, who am I kidding, this place is going to be a mess for months, you won’t have time-”

He’d probably ramble on, but Roy shuts him up with another kiss. “Of course I’ll have time,” Roy says, and his voice is so sure that Edward stays quiet. “I’ll make time. I know your brother is important, and I’m not going to pull you away from him.”

“I, ah,” Edward stumbles, “Thank you.”

“You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow,” Roy says, before kissing Ed once more because he won’t be able to for a long time, and he knows this. “Go get some rest.”

Roy pulls away, and Edward finds himself leaning towards the man before he catches himself. “Ah, yeah… Bye.”

Roy watches Edward fumble for the door, finally finding it and slowly opening it so as to not wake Alphonse. He steps into the doorway, and he hopes no one in the room is awake.

“Oh, and one last thing, Ed.”

Edward almost has the door closed behind him, but freezes and turns back to Roy, who grins at him in the dim hospital lighting.

“Red suits you.”


End file.
